Praeternatural
by Lucidsilver
Summary: Gavri'el knew it was a matter of time before ni would be forced to choose between nir siblings. Dark visions of the future were enough to convince ni to leave, but a vessel was needed to stay off Heaven's radar. Difficult since all blood lines were watched, and the only other candidate as nir vessel was entity of questionable moral and origin bound and confined in a void of shadows
1. Chapter 1

Glowing pinpricks of amber stared from abyssal black eyes set in a pale sharp face. Raising a long fingered hand tipped with crimson nails bright dancing flames lit up the empty cold hearth that the being wrapped in white furs sat crossed legged on a similar fur rug in-front of. Bright flames cast sinister shadows across the inhuman creature's visage. Bright orange hair with streaks of gold seemed to glow with the light of the flames.

"_I wilt admit, to my curiosity as to wherefore one of your kind would come to me, an __archangel__ no less_**.**" Despite the closed off expression, the being's tone was warm and pleasant though with a soft rustling pitch, eyes still fixed upon the fire.

There was nothing said for several long moments. The being received no response and continued to gaze into the flickering dancing fire, slender fingers through it, showing no signs of distress even when his whole hand seemed to have been pulled in by a tendril of orange blue fire, accompanied by whispering laughter.

"...Well can't say I was expecting to visit you either, Tricker of gods." A shadow in the corner of the room shifted.

Amber pinpricks flickering with their own fire burned with amusement despite the cold stony expression on the god's face. "_You may know me as __Tsalmaveth__ angel, come sit with me_."

"Only if you call me Gavri'el." Was the flippant response, even as a thin frail looking young girl dressed in a bright golden dress detached from the shadows and sat cautiously next to the god that stared unashamedly at the archangel.

Gavri'e's vessel was a tiered looking girl with thin dark brown hair, hollow cheeks and a small nose dotted with freckles. Amber eyes lingered on the faint rashes visible on the archangel's vessel, marring her face and thin bare forearms. Thin lips turned downwards at the corners, the god turned to the fire once more. His expression blank but eyes dark.

"You know why I have come." A slow nod was the archangel's response. "I wouldn't have come unless I had no other choice, everyone is always fighting, there is never a moment of peace between Micha'el and Hêlêl, Rafa'el is withdrawn and somber, and Father-"

Giving the archangel a side eyed glance, the god waited motionlessly. Gavri'el continued. Honesty given through then need to speak and be listened to. "I could not stand it any longer, they keep fighting, always at the throat of the other. I didn't know what to do, I have no message to pass on, so I wasn't needed, but to remain on Earth-"

Arching a single brow Tsalmaveth turned his head fully to stare at the archangel in the visibly steaming vessel beside him. Said archangel was a shimmering force writhing beneath translucent skin.

In the silence that followed the only sound was the cracking of burning wood and soft whispering laughter from the dancing flames that Tsalmaveth returned his gaze to as the danger of the archangel's vessel spontaneous combustion passed.

"_...You do realize little angel, that for what I __think__ you are implying I couldst easily __kindle you to ashes_." It was a rather softly spoken statement, equal parts warning and curious, with a sibilant consonant. "_Your brethren would be unable to find you, cloaked as you and this place are from prying gazes. __None__ are aware that you are here_."

The youngest archangel stilled completely, retreating deeper into herself when crimson tipped claws pressed with deceptive gentleness on either side of her vessel's face. The pinpricks of amber were blown wide, the black only a faint darkening at the edge of the god's dispassionate eyes that penetrated dull bronze, to look into Gavri'el's multiple fear filled eyes.

It was too little too late as Gavri'el questioned her decision to visit this god of all creatures with such a request in mind, she hadn't even voiced it, but it didn't matter, it was obvious what she was going to ask. There were other candidates that she could choose. Some easier than others to convince or even willing.

Others would attack before speaking, or they would be like the Bound One, half mad and starving as he was, Tsalmaveth was at the bottom of the candidates Gavri'el had thought of. He was also the best fit out of all of them as the archangel's vessel and could as easily contain her.

After the brief glimpse if the god's true form the archangel had before reveling herself, she had no trouble believing Tsalmaveth would not succumb to her grace, if he could be convinced to say yes, and not devourer her.

Tsalmaveth considered the archangel for several long moments, grip slowly tightening before he drew back in a slow controlled manner claws returning to nails.

Hands once again passing into the fire that had taken the form of a winding serpent, a gamboling colt, and a clumsy looking hound playing with a small humanoid looking child.

So that was the source of the laughter, Gavri'el hadn't noticed with the sheer presence that Tsalmaveth gave off.

"_I have children angel. In every iteration, the one thing that never changes is mine failing of them, loyal to Odin as I a-__was__. As I was_."

A soft huff at the near slip that Gavri'el didn't _dare_ point out. Eyes darkened, amber once again pinpricks vanished, hidden by the darkness in the god's eyes, a bitter smile touching the being's face as the shades within the fire laughed and danced, carefree and joyous.

"_I always failed them. Even now. What is worse, their fates woven by the Norns? Or reducing them to this?_"

Gavri'el said nothing, half wondering if the god even remembered that she was there and immediately discarding the thought. No matter the state of his mind, Tsalmaveth was dangerous and not to be underestimated.

Eyes flickering to the dancing shades in the flames to the glazed over dark eyes of her companion Gavri'el was unsure what to do, that would hopefully not end with her death. The archangel shifted her wings nervously when the god visibly began to breathe, clawed hands clenching.

"_I hated this_,"

A jerky gesture towards himself, the circular patch of white fur rug, the small hearth with the playing shades, and the thick palpable darkness surrounding them.

"_At first, but 'twas the best I could do, can do, a puppet cut from strings it relied on to heavily, just because it saw enough of the script to want to escape the plot, and for all the so called freedom it gained, still lost, still trapped_."

_Father_. She felt an overwhelming amount of empathy for the suddenly vulnerable looking god. It was the only reason she did something that she knew Micha'el would have spent the next _millennia_ screeching at her about had he been there.

If the eldest archangel had been there, blood shed would have occurred so maybe she wouldn't have been able to extend her grace out to the god, and wrap her arms around his middle in a physical and metaphysical hug.

The dark bitter sensation that came with touching her grace to the god made her shiver was almost enough for Gavri'el to fly away with her tails between her legs. Never look back at the dark pocket of nothingness were Tsalmaveth and his brood remained cut off from all of time and creation.

Until the lost and vulnerable image of the god clutching his furs to himself flashed in her mind. Absently the archangel noted the furs were very nice under her vessel's fingers, smooth and soft. It still amazed her how things felt when connected to a vessel.

"My sympathies for the situation you are in." After a moment Tsalmaveth seeming to wilt slightly, the dark essence just underneath his avatar seeming to lose some of its bitter edge and skirt outwards to brush against her grace. Gavri'el shuddered but did not withdraw.

"Oh?" it was a soft sigh, seemingly resigned and undeniably exhausted. Gavri'el wondered at Tsalmaveth's expression, but she wasn't dead yet, so the god wasn't too upset. Probably. "Of course you can assist me, at a price that once paid, left a useless shade of what I once was, and my children..."

Within her vessel Gavri'el's grace roiled angrily as she arched her wings at the thought of reducing the god to such a state.

While obviously broken, from what she had seen, there was still a burning will to carry on within Tsalmaveth, not quite pride or honor, but that desperate primal will to live for another. To prove _them_ wrong, that yes you could protect them.

It disturbed the archangel more that she wanted to admit that there was no will to live for himself, as if it had been simply removed. It shouldn't be possible.

"I refuse to allow that." It was just that simple.

There was no way that she would allow the god to sit forgotten slowly wasting away to protect his children from the fate that awaited them because of prejudice of others, and the machinations of higher powers. Even if it might result in her death. Were the sudden determination came from Gavri'el had no idea.

The god seemed to slowly loose the coiled tightness that had been ever present since the beginning of their conversation. The oppressive weight that had been pressing upon her from the beginning evaporated, taking the strain she hadn't noticed go with it.

"_In truth_?"

"I wouldn't lie to you."

"_The Father of Lies has been gifted his fair share of them._"

"No, well that too. You deserve some honesty without any deception."

"_...Angels are all about justice and blunt honesty then?_" The dark cool essence of the god mellowed out, reminding Gavri'el of stale mead instead of bitter charred wood and vinegar. The angel found the rotted fruit like tang more tolerable.

Not that there was much she could have done with the dark tendrils of the Bound One's essence coiling loosely through her grace. The archangel strangely enough felt for the most part the extreme invasion was nonthreatening, her grace was doing the same to her current vessel's soul.

As if aware of the thought, the dark tendrils lingered near the brightly glittering soul that was oblivious to the intense scrutiny it was under.

Before Gavri'el rising worry forced her to act, the darkness receded back into the god's motionless avatar. Tsalmaveth didn't continue the probably semiconscious act of breathing after a loud exhale, both being knowing it was pointless and unnecessary.

"_All iterations are similar yet different, all leading to the same place despite how far each of us stray from the paths already set down by those who had gone before. Blind despite seeing it so many times, insane after so many pointless attempts to change what cannot be changed. _

"He was frowning from the dark raspy tone he had taken.

"_They still follow him, the Terrible One, each and every single time, even when he makes the same mistakes. It never ceases to amaze me how they all continue to blindly follow the Strings despite how it always brings them to their Doom."_

Gavri'el disliked philosophical talks like this. Fate the future, what could be or could have been. The irony was not lost on her.

"_How long it took The Sly One to realize how pointless everything was I am unsure, I see now though. The place for one such as I is not as open." _

Then there was a surge of primal fear through the archangel's grace as all light vanished. The avatar of the bound god was almost burning despite the cool clamminess of its skin, a contradiction that caused her grace to roil in unease, the obvious supernatural nature of it.

Almost without realizing it, she slowly opened her eyes, staring at Tsalmaveth with her true sight instead of her vessel. Gavri'el shuddered feeling small under the thousands of amber pinpricks, each with the diameter of her wingspan or greater. Narrowed.

She could barely make out the massive form that was covered by in comparison small orange red dots. A single large eye with concentric ripple like patterns gleamed almost as bright as the silver fanged nightmare of grin, a ghastly horizontal slash across a cruel face. Then the Originator of Deceit spoke.

"Let us form a...Mutually beneficial deal."

* * *

**Note/update**

**First story so far, working on the next chapter/sequel. Tsalmaveth is a OOC Loki, from MCU with some Norse elements after several iterations after Ragnarok has occurred. Gavri'el, Micha'el, Hêlêl and Rafa'el are Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael from Supernatural, before the fall.**

**Sorry for anyone expecting a new chapter. fixed some mistakes that I noticed. I will probably finish the first chapter from Tsalmaveth's pov by friday and post sometime this week.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Eh took some doing, but here it is ._(º-º )._**

**Unfortunately I don't have a beta reader or anyone to review anything for me, I would appreciate some feedback and anyone pointing out mistakes and anything that I can improve on. The previous chapters that I had up before have been reposted as Praeternatural Bits for those that want to read them and other shorts that I removed or did not originally add to the main story.**

* * *

Tsalmaveth before he became so, was accused of trusting too much by a fellow. Trust, traustr, the firm belief in the reality, the truth or strength of something or someone, to the point that you would allow it to have control over you, hold your confidence.

The Tricker used to trust a lot of things, and what remained of him still did. He trusted _**Bolverk **__many iterations ago, and several since to betray him. He trusted the _Æsir _to turn on him and his family. It happened once, it happened twice, and would keep happening no matter what he did to try and change things._

_ He could only slow them down to the point it would take more time than __they __had to bring events to a close, even if it was another change at __choice__ from the cycle. It was a false hope really, so he ignored it, and continued to ignore it. Gavri'el was different though, a break in the pattern._

_Everything was progressing as usual, Tsalmaveth prepared to spend another iteration burning himself out to shield his own from the horrors that they would have faced. Gavri'el changed things however with its mere presence. __Choice__ was not a fleeting chance in the wind, a wavering mirage that would dissipate like smoke and burn his seeking hands. With the archangel's assistance, it was a tangible thing, solid, firm, and the distance not so great or impossible to transverse._

_For all his power limited as it was in his current state, but still great, Tsalmaveth had no __choice__. He was limited to the script he had been given, the little amount of room he had for change utilized in full, and then some._

_There were some occasions he came close to __choice, __but never this close, how long it had been since he had it, even if only an illusion, Tsalmaveth couldn't for the life of him remember. The times from before, obscure memories clouded by pain, darkness and Void._

_Gavri'el was a risk though, what it could provide was something that Tsalmaveth would do almost anything for._

_If asked, he would drag the heavens from their cradle in the sky. If asked, the dark being would without hesitation or care for the billions of little lives raise hell upon the earth, and personally lead the armies of hell. If asked, he would bring back the dark ages, or an eternal golden age._

_All that and more he would have done without any hesitation or mercy at the simple chance. Any compassion and empathy he once had mostly nonexistent, the little he had focused on his brood. _

_If Gavri'el came through, if the archangel actually accomplished what it promised-_

_He hummed, a low rumbling sound, eyes fixated on the small celestial entity. Said entity squirmed minutely under his scrutiny. Tsalmaveth knew that he could trust the angel, but what exactly he could trust it to do, the dark being was unsure._

_The seemingly sincere words that flowed from the archangel's mouth were too good to be true. The title of the Messenger was well gifted._

_How long had he waited for a way out, a chance to finally cut his ties and break away from the cycle he had been a part of longer than he could recall?_

_Too long._

_At first the Trickster played along, participating with the rest of them right in the thick of things, until vague impressions turned to nagging feelings and half-forgotten memories. Distant dreams, then nightmares._

_ At some point, he remembered, not everything, as it would be impossible to retain even some semblance of sanity that he pretended to have, but enough for him to want no part in their sick and twisted games. _

_It was never about what he had wanted though, not then. The best he could do was condemn himself and his children to a half-life, trapped in distortions of time were they couldn't reach, and contented themselves with empty mannequins. _

_Tsalmaveth expected to spend eternity staring at the hearth, lifeless save for the playful spirits of his children, their shades given the life and vitality they lost, at the sacrifice of the Hearth spirit's fire. They would never know the full extent of what he sacrificed for them. If he had his way they never would._

_Surprises were never good in Tsalmaveth's experiences, and as a rule, the being didn't like them. Gavri'el, was a surprise. A different sort that he was unused to, but still the archangel was a surprise, and he did not like them. Yet, he desired what Gavri'el's appearance represented. Change. Freedom. Revenge._

_So again, Tsalmaveth knew that he trusted the archangel, but now he had to ask himself, not for his own sake, but the sake of Sleipnir, Hela, Jormungandr, and Fenris, the sons and daughter of Loki the Trickster. _

_"The promises that you speak of. Oh the things you say __archangel__."__ He was only half focused on the small bundle of light, its arching wings folded tightly to its flanks, necks craning in an attempt to keep the large dark being in sight. "__Such dangerous queer humor you inspire. Fickle and ever fleeting trust is. Tell me, exactly how should I trust you?"_

Large bright eyes warily assessed the dark being, but the archangel did not show any signs of fleeing, talon tipped feet firmly set on the nothingness they stood on, shoulders lowered and tail loosely curled against its side.

Once again he found himself admiring the elegantly constructed creature and wondering not for the first time, why the creature of such a race would seemingly abandon them if all other angels were as pleasing as the Gavri'el was to the eye. Heads lowered, the archangel said nothing for several moments.

"..I cannot answer that."

It was a very close thing, but he managed to restrain the wayward limb that lurched forward to dismember the celestial entity. It was an accomplishment really, the archangels lucky he had burned himself out over the eons.

"Should you trust another? I do not presume to know what you have experience, and I cannot comprehend the thought process of a being of your position, however I can assure you I gain nothing by lying, your ability to believe in my honesty is paramount to my goals."

An ember eyes squinted, pinpricks rapidly winking as the darkness roiled around him. He still sensed no lies, it was strange, and he had associated lies with all that he did not count as his own. His curiosity was a tiny flicker in his cold mind, a startling change to his apathetic cynicism.

"_You must have heard things about me, yet you released my brood. I am a being cloaked in darkness, why do you wish to go out of your way to assist me when your side of the bargain is already fulfilled?" _Tsalmaveth continued without waiting for a response, the question only half directed at the archangel. He didn't expect an answer_. "Am I right in my thinking that, you are sound of mind and spirit? If so, what compels you to further consort with beings of chaos?"_

"Free will is an attribute that Father gifted to humans, his greatest creation, it is not something that angels possess. If He did not approve of my actions of freeing your spawn, or my current actions regarding your imprisonment, and the resulting actions you would perform once free, I would know."

He frowned, eyes roving as he stared intently into the yawning darkness. There was no difference, not that he expected to sense anything. Tsalmaveth was a damaged shattered being. He knew and accepted that, it was not that much of a stretch that the creator of the universe would keep an eyes on him, or warn his creations of him.

"While you may be a dark being that is noteworthy enough for Father to caution us of confronting, even if you are imprisoned here, you are the only alternative I have in successfully avoiding the pointless bloodshed that will result from my brethren."

The archangel wavered for a moment, form blurring into waves before reforming once again, more solid and sure than before.

"The realm Yggdrasil is not one of my Fathers creations, the humans, giants, and gods there are not of my father. The realm is not a part of my father's plan."

His essence churned uncomfortably.

"…You are not an evil being-"

He could hear what the angel was saying but the words.

"…You were hurt and angry-"

He did not understand.

"…This is not just about our deal."

Why did someone care now?

"There was an injustice done to you. It must be corrected."

_º _

oo

OOO

oo

_º_

Compared another angel, Gavri'el was a rather large and powerful entity, small only in the presence of nir eldest siblings and Father, whose presence dwarfed everything. Tsalmaveth constantly shrouded in darkness was notably larger than even Michael though, by several times at least. The dark god made the youngest archangel feel small in a way only nir Father ever had.

It was no wonder that they were cautioned away from the rippling shadows halfway between the light and dark in the early beginnings of creation. Even trapped and sapped of strength the dark being had a presence about him that made the messenger feel like ni was being watched by one of the Old Ones.

Still, ni knew that despite Tsalmaveth as he wished to be called not being one of nir Father's creations, the dark being was not an abomination, as much as his grace wanted to be far away from the being, something in it was drawn to the god.

Cracks stretched across the dark cage that hugged the god's form like an exoskeleton, disintegrating were the grace of an archangel seeped through, stoking the dull amber spark within. With an explosion of light that revealing sinister dark chains that scattered like ash in the wind, all traces of the darkness vanished.

A towering slender figure with a sharp featured humanlike face, elongated ears, and pointed chin. Slanted to large amber eyes slightly unfocused gazing vaguely into the bright expanse that was once darkness. Shimmering strands of scarlet adorned the being's head in a spiky mane of hair, inlayed with polished shards of bones, smoothed stones and wooded beads.

Pale long fingered hands hesitantly, patting the pale orange tunic lingering on the thick light blue feathered cloak draped over his shoulders. No Gavri'el realized wings. He stared at the massive white blue hawk like bird with green flecked red eyes crying out for blood, wings that easily dwarfed nir own by a hundred times.

It had to be Father's will that ni freed the Shattered One, otherwise, Gavri'el had single handedly condemned an entire universe's destruction with nir hand in rejuvenating _Loki_.

Somewhere in the nine realms three elderly women stiffened, identical dark rings on their fingers pulsing. Each exclaimed in surprise and pain as the hand adorned with the ring burned, blistering red then blacked with frost bite. The small black rings disintegrated once thrown to the ground. Fires in every hearth in every house and home flickered green and died, from the grand halls of Asgard to the small huts of Midgard. Residents cried out in alarm, drowning out the soft dark chuckles that faded like dust on the wind.

* * *

**Finished ._.**

**Sorry it took so long and the confusion that the deleted chapters caused people, probably should have put a note to explain instead of on my profile. Oh well. Anywho I have a better idea of were to go with this story, kind of. Shorts and bits that wouldn't fit anywhere in the story as of yet will be posted in Praeternatural Bits, so look at that if your curious. I'll probably post more frequently during the summer since it'll have no excuse not to write anything. Felt kind of bad leaving you all hanging after going off to enjoy myself on vacation after deleting a majority of the story, enough to sit down and work on this (awkward shrug while fidgeting). Hope you enjoyed it.**


	3. Chapter 3

There was just something about _seiðr_ that had fascinated Loptr as a young child. Many of his fellow _jötnar_ only had an interest based on necessity, nothing more. It disappointed him when he learned all he could, there was so little that they could teach him. Odin however was different.

The halfblooded giant sought out to learn more with a fervor equal if not more intense than his own. He fascinated Loptr, and in turn, _Oðinn_ seemed curious if somewhat guarded about him. It was only to be expected he though, he had been raised by Æsir unfortunately.

They became friends, Loptr making sure to properly educate _Oðinn _in the ways of the _jötnar. _It was not all violence and deception like the Æsir made it out to be. In turn, his friend told him of the halls of Asgard and the ways of the Æsir.

Sometimes a strange look would come into his friend's eyes and he would stare at Loptr when he thought the _jötnar _wasn't looking. He always was though, never let it be said that growing up in the harsh forests of Jotunheimr made Loptr a dull child. Eventually while resting after several bouts in what became their clearing, _Oðinn _asked if Loptr was willing to come with him to Asgard, and become his brother.

Both cut their hands, crimson weeping from the incisions on their palms. Loptr tightly clasped hands with _Oðinn _their blood mixing and bonding them together. As brothers.

_Oðinn _returned to Asgard from Jotunheimr with his blood brother Loki the dawn of the next day.

o) o)O(o (o

The crown of ice was a comforting weight, a diadem of glinting crystal antlers that melded seamlessly to his brow. Sharp freezing cool to the touch, many a number had died an agonizing death speared upon them, their life blood coloring the clear ice red. Pale blue feathers lightened to straw yellow at the ends, and his tail was a fan of amber feathers, the tips burning with golden flames.

From where he hung above the sky, the dying sun casting a glow upon him, Loki peered down at the land below him. Midgard. Found memories of traveling the land of men with his once brother and nephew came to mind, better times in some ways, and worse in others. With a small contemplative noise the falcon swished its tail, lazily wheeling circles in the sky, relishing the burn in his long silent spirit.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to feel Kári's fingers deftly running through his feathers in a comforting caress, helping lift him into the sky. It wasn't necessary and he wasn't quite sure if they were still siblings, but all the same whenever he flew she sprung to assist him whenever she could. It was so easy to forget the little things that he had once enjoyed, never realizing how much he missed them until they were gone.

Gazing through half lidded eyes, the _jötnar_ lazily beat his wings, a vindictive glint in his eyes as he watched the previously calm white clouds darken to grey. He could imagine the pitiful mortals running in terror as the grey clouds from above brought darkness to their simple little world.

"_Ah __Oðinn you who were once my brother, fret and worry, dwell in your home and seek warmth and comfort from your cold empty hearth yet receive none_."

Distantly as the rapidly descending sun was blotted out by clouds, a scream of fright could be heard. It was quickly silenced and replaced by a howl.

"_Find no joy or merriment, watch as your precious mortals forsake their gods and bring about havoc and strife to their fellows. Despair as the evil that sleeps in the land you created from the flesh and blood of the primordial giant and infects the precious tree from which all come forth and return. Stand helpless and do nothing as evils delight in the growing wickedness in every heart and all you know is cast into darkness."_

Snow dropped from heavy black clouds, carried off by the eager wind to blanket the land of mortal men with snow, and ice that leeched away all warmth.

"_The combed fowl's croon will herald the doom of the power and helplessly you will watch as your worst fears play before you one last time_."

The sky bled mesmerizing shades of red, carmine and scarlet streaking across what was left of the sky as the life blood of the _brúðr __dripped from_ _Hróðvitnir's _son snapping jaws. He who at last seized the bright bride of the sky in his jaws.

"_As you lay dying beneath the fangs of Fenrir, in the midst of carnage twilight, watch the sons of Muspell come, guided by fire as they tear all asunder. Watch and know that you bound by the three sisters are helpless as I burn everything held dear to your heart to ashes. Go into battle knowing __that__I will__have__you__on__your__knees__strung_ _in__the__entrails__of__your__precious_ _sons__beaten__, __**AS YOU ONCE HAD ME**__!"_

o) o)O(o (o

All around him corpses of giants and gods alike burned. Fire demons ravaged the corpses, at ease in the fiery desolate land that was once bountiful. Standing so tall his head up against the clouds, hair brushing against the roof of the sky stood Loki, absently petting Fenrir's massive head and stroking Jormungandr's jaw, paying no mind to the puffs of deadly poison that came with the serpent's every breath.

Gavri'el wasn't sure how to feel about the carnage and destruction that had and still was taking place. The archangel had no right to denounce the Dark One's actions. If the dark being desired to pry open the rib cage of his tormentor and hand their lungs over their shoulders, it was his own business.

If his first son delighted in slowly stomping on the tips of the All-Father's toes it was also his own business, after all this world was not one of Father's making. The former king did not cry out despite the pain he surely must be feeling.

Gavri'el was not made to be a warrior like Micha'el or Hêlêl. Even Rapha'el was more suited to battle than nim. Gavri'el was a warrior just like the rest of the host, but his primary purpose was to be a messenger, not a fighter. A shiver went through the archangel's grace, nir gaze fixed upon the sight of de-winged _valkyrja_ being carried away by the _jötnar_ to the _Bilröst_. The glint in the giant's eyes left no doubt as to what fate awaited the unfortunate maidens.

As if sensing the archangel's minute unease Loki exchanged a look with the massive eight legged stallion, posture at ease despite the flames clad demons bringing down the few remaining _Æsir_ and the jeering _jötnar_ carrying away the bound prisoners. The eldest of Loki's children snorted, eyes rolling in their sockets. Giving one last kick to the fallen king, the horse stepped aside.

A vague sort of smile on his face, Loki elegantly stepped away from his children, gliding on light feet, flames leaping higher as he passed, the Deceiver stood above the All-Father,amber green eyes half lidded. The _jötun_ with deceptive gentleness bend slightly at the waist, pale slender fingered hands assisting the god to his knees, hoisting him upright by thickly wound cords that shone gold were blood hadn't stained it red.

"_Better is it not?" _The god did not answer, mouth pinched and white.

The monstrous wolf growled a guttural deep sound that shook the ground. Gavri'el withdrew a little relived ni was not restricted by a vessel in case ni needed to flee. Loki hushed the wolf, a serene expression on his sharply features. The remaining beast's, demons and giants gathered in a loose circle to watch, the only sound the crackling fames eagerly consuming kindling in the form of corpses.

"_Come come __Oðinn, better to kneel than wallow in the filth, don't you agree?"_ When the _Æsir_ did not answer, Loki's calm expression twisted into an ugly snarl.

Scaled clawed feet lashed out, kicking the _ás _viciously in the chest. Coughing and spitting up ichor, _Oðinn _remained, upright, for the most part.

"_Freyja was an interesting, for an ásynja. The silkiness of the __skækja __hair was no boast_" The lone blue in in a blood encrusted face was positively blank. "_No, you certainty didn't appreciate her… Activities being pointed out to you Oðinn."_

Frowning, arching brows pinched and eyes dark with something the archangel failed to identify Loki peered into the god's eye searching. The speed in which the _jötun's _mood change was impossible for Gavri'el to keep track of. Scowling harshly, Loki shook his head, hair clinking like glass as he turned his back on the silent _ás, _calmly surveying the watching monstrous beasts.

"_All of you knew this day would come. For some it was simply a feeling, and inclination to gather at this place, for others, it was a call impossible to ignore. Regardless, you came, and lo, what we have accomplished, together." _

A massacre.

"_Chaos in it's finest, the proud noble__ Æsir are no more, the __Ásynjur__ have been seized, __Valhöll, Asgard and all the realms that stand against us have been plundered." _His countenance distinctively avian and sharp, a clawed finger gestured down at the bloody bound fallen king._ "Standing here in __Vígríðr all that is left, Gestumblindi!" _

There was much laughter, sinister dark twisted laughter.

"_Unfortunately he seems to find no delight in my company, for shame, I used to be very talented in keeping company, alas what a terrible host I have been! To deprive the guest of honor the right to mingle, for shame."_

Fire demons and _jötnar_ alike cried out, mock booing and baying eagerly, barely restraining their primal urge to fall upon the _ás _behind Loki even with the _jötun_ impressive presence and size commanding attention.

"_As much as I would love to keep company with our…Guest, I have prior arrangements." _

Smiling widely but eyes flat, the _jötun _gazed directly at Gavri'el despite the archangel cloaking nirself from perception. For a moment, he seemed torn gaze wandering back to the _ás_kneeling on the ground. Those cold amber eyes burned with a dark fury, barely controlled when they settled on the three beast like _jötnar. _Sleipnir, Fenrir, Hel.

Grinning crookedly he stepped away from the _Æsir_, a glazed blue orb gingerly held between two fingers. The sea of monsters parting to make way for the Father of Lies and his offspring, moving as one they eagerly fell upon the _ás. _bound in entrails, bloody golden threads and blinded there was simply no hope for escape.

"_Farewell, brother."_

It was a mere whisper. Louder to be heard over the subsiding but still fierce roar of fire and the baying demons and all other manor of beasts Loki spoke.

_"I Loptr, formerly Loki of Asgard, sound of mind and spirit freely give control over mine avatar to one Gavri'el, archangel of the entity known as..._ יהוה _and is His Messenger for the release of me and mine from the cycle crafted by the __nornir, their subsequent demise and destruction, the burning of Yggdrasil, and the revitalizing a fallen body. As I deem so mote it be." _

Taking a moment to procees the jötun's word's. Gavri'el braced nimself. With nir next actions they would officially be free from the conflict going on in heaven. No longer would he be torn between nir siblings over the commands of a Father that they all loved.

Ni tried to tell themselves that they were not abandoning nir siblings, it was only a retreat, following Fater's orders to watch and love over humans in a different way. There was no going back. But eventally, Gavri'el knew there would be no more running away, and ni would have to face them. Not now, but when the time came Gavri'el would be ready.

"So mote it be."

Hopefully.

* * *

**_Lucidsilver: _**_Back to having three chapters again, didn't take as long as I though it would kind of wrote itself really, already started on ch 4 too. It feels kind of short, but it seemed like a good place to leave off at. I like to know if people like what I am posting so far, Favs and Follows are nice if you don't want to leave a comment._

_Tsal/Loptr seemed a bit more unhinged than I expected him to be, guess isolation doesn't do it for him. I__ don't have any plans of writing much about the supernatural verse since Tsal/Loptr only tie to it is Gavri'el, and after faking his death he feels no obligation to hang out with him in heaven, believing that he would be fine up there, not like Gavri'el is going to be attracting anymore attention after faking his death. He doesn't have a high opinion on Gavri'el siblings with the whole apocalypse thing going on, even if he doesn't like humans either, he's fine with ignoring them believing killing them all to be a waste of time, and not worth the lost of modern day amenities._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Besides oc and plot idea, I own nothing.**

* * *

The stench of stale mead, leather, smoke and too many unwashed bodies in one place seemed to be the trade mark scent for taverns like this. The off key drunken song of red faced men, human and not, the harried calls of bar wenches, and of course laughter was an ambience Loptr had long ago become accustomed. It was impossible not to after attending so many of the feats in Asgard's halls.

Mind numbed after several concentrated bottles of burning red liquid, the flame haired man sat awkwardly on a wooded chair, head lolling on a slender pale neck, primarily green multicolored eyes glazed.

Leaning forward long fingered hands reached for a tankard of amber liquid that had just been placed in front of him by a vaguely familiar maid. She had been passing him tankards since he first walked in a fortnight ago along with a host of _jötnar_ and dark denizens of _Yggdrasil_ to celebrate the completion of _Myrkgarthr. _A massive fortress of twisted bones from the fallen and granite located at _Vígríðr_.

To his horror he was was told is was to be the center of his kingdom. Loptr blamed his unwanted empire on the Norns. There was no other possibility, it had to have been some last dying act of the puppet masters as he devoured them. He knew that chill he felt at their dying shrieks wasn't just his imagination.

The boost to his _seiðr, _and the temporal abilities were worth it, and a safe place for his bloodline made it tolerable. The fact that it was larger than the once fabled Asgard, the grand home of the _æsir_ which had been turned into a house of ill repute was he grudgingly admitted to a slyly grinning Fenrir satisfying, as well as seeing _Skaði_. Yes her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears was a memory he would recall often fondly.

Resigned to his new place as Lord, there was a feast thrown in celebration. It was more relaxing to go with the flow Loptr decided, the jötun probably would have enjoyed the previous ones thrown in his honor if he hadn't spent most of that time trying to escape his position.

He squinted in irritation at the not too small amount of ale spilled by his clumsy grab. The liquid was uncomfortable on his hands, sticky and sweet smelling. His ire quickly pass however. Furrowed arching eyebrows relaxed, thin pinched lips opening as the amber liquid passed them.

Sharply cut features smoothed out from their drawn set the longer he drank, a lopsided grin hidden by his ornate wooden tankard. He tossed his head back, guzzling the contents without pausing for air, or righting himself as he tipped backwards.

The more he leaned back, the greater his alcohol induced headache became. The increased flow of the sweet mead made it worth it in Loptr opinion, even if he ended up on the grimy floor. He could clean himself with a simple working later.

When all too soon the last of the precious drops of liquid ran dry and his aching head made itself known, the empty vessel was un-ceremonially dropped on the floor. The auburn haired man licked his parched lips. Squinting up at the ceiling, Loptr wondered if it was worth the headache to get something else to drink, then a figure loomed over him.

If Loptr was standing upright, he would have called them short, as that was not the case, the gold haired man looked rather tall, honey colored eyes filled with bemused exasperation, but his face a blank slate. It was rather impressive he thought.

The gold haired man looked very familiar, irritably so, but his alcohol muddled mind couldn't perform at the moment and his perception was a mess he closed from his main senses days ago, so he had no clue of their name or identity relying on sight alone. Was Gatsby? Gabe. Gaston? Grace? No that was a female name. He had the feeling that gender distinctions only loosely applied to the golden blond haired man.

Or person. Loptr found the human belief that only they could be called people quite silly. _Mortals_. Were such presumptuous little things, and as a whole they were unaware just how low on the food chain they were. This golden blond was no human. his

Conceding defeat, at least until his mind was in order, the jötnar decided to think of the gold haired as flaxen midget. Said midget put him in a quite frightful of moods by blocking the way back to his stool. Whether it was purposeful or not, he was preventing him from reaching the new tankard that was calling his name. Flaxen little ponce.

"_Laufeyjarson _it is pleasant to see that you are well." The flat blank expression didn't change, nor was there any relief expressed in his tone despite what was said. Blinking slowly, he thought hard to decipher the spiel that was just uttered. Was he just call _Laufeyjarson_? A kenning associated with Loki? His eyes darkened for but a moment.

Did the Flaxen ponce mistaken him for his other incarnation? Maybe he was not the only one who had drank too much. He ignored the fact the other sounded completely sober, and the only difference between the two beings that could be comprehended by others in most cases was behavior and tone of voice.

It was so hard to think when he was drunk. It affected his All Speak, how he still didn't know. Probably the one eyed man's fault. While Loptr couldn't remember at the moment why he hated him with such burning fervor, but the auburn man knew he was at fault for many things. One more thing shouldn't hurt.

True it would be easy to burn the poison from his avatar, but he had been drinking for days now, and the celebration over the conquest of the Realms didn't seem close to stopping anytime soon even if decades had already passed, but for the sake for better understanding, he purged some of the alcohol in his veins, the clarity of his mind immediately noticeable.

Eyes much more focused and steady, Loptr pondered the benefits of expending the effort to sit up or continue the conversation laying down. With a flex of _seiðr_, he perched on a woolly hassock. A gift from some _æsir _cur made from two goats_._

the _jötnar_ was sure he had seen said goats each the size of a small horse drawing a cart bearing tribute in an attempt to appeal to Loptr who despite his wishes was the unofficial leader of allied forces of darkness. Loptr Over-Lord was a ridiculous tittle in his opinion, and a poor attempt at a replacement for All-Father. No one cared for his opinion unfortunately.

The Lord of All Darkness wasn't much better. Sometimes having fanatically loyal minions willing to follow him to death was not worth the headache they caused. The hangovers alone if he was human. If not for Hel's incredibly persuasive stare, Loptr would be dimensions away having more fun causing mischief. The feasts and visits to Asgard were fun at first, now he only stayed for the mead.

"_That is no longer a byname of mine, refer to me as Loptr_." Absently the Flaxen little prick nodded, a slight furor in his brows. The nagging familiarity was annoying.

"I have spent much time looking for you, I wish to beg for your forgiveness."

"You're not the first to come seeking it." Tentavly opening his perception, Loptr showed none of the surprise he felt, features pleasant and cool.

"I do not wish for you to hold a grudge against my person for the possible slight I have committed against you." There were eyes on them now, the bar somehow quieter despite the volume of drunken patrons never decreasing. There were enough in attendance sober that Loptr even in his questionable state of mind was aware of their subtle or in some cases not so subtle gazes.

Offering a slightly too wide lopsided grin at the gold haired being, Loptr slowly stood, easily towering over the smaller being by more than three heads,. Clasping a large hand on their shoulder Loptr threaded his _seiðr loosely around them._ "I have no idea of what you're talking about, little angel."

For a moment the man seemed like he wanted to laugh or cry eyes literally glowing with conflicting emotions. He blinked and they were average unassuming honey brown, flat and containing only wisps of apprehension, so faint, Loptr wondered if the entity behind those eyes was even aware of the emotion.

"Tell me little angel, what brings you to this little garden in the multiverse, what has it a century since we last conversed?"

A small frown on marble features. "We last interacted one century, three decades-" He went silent with a tap against his head.

"…Yes about a century. Now, whatever it is that troubles you enough to seek me out, and causes you to fear my ire, feel free to make it known dove." The faint shimmer of _seiðr _that formed a sound proof bubble to make the conversation more private became visible, much to the listener's embarrassment and indignation. They knew better than to speak out.

Golden eyes drifted to the side as he shuffled his feet, much to Loptr's fascination. The oddly unexpected behavior uncharacteristic for his kind did little to distract Loptr from his curiosity. Finally the shoulders under his palms squared themselves, Gavri'el's wings lowering in resignation.

It took a moment to register when the archangel spoke, and another to realize what it they had said, when it's voice was naught but a whisper. Loptr had to strain is ears to hear. A surprising feat given that he was a chaos entity of high standing his senses were sharp.

Absently he realized he was smiling again, it pulled uncomfortably on his body's face with how wide it was, still being unused to such a limited restraining avatar. He must have simply have misheard his favorite little angel. Yes that was it, it made more sense than what Gavri'el had just said.

"_Could you repeat that? I must have…Misheard you archangel_."

Loptr knew his voice was distorting as his control over his avatar wavered. His _seiðr _was filling the room, an oppressive force barely restrained. Loptr also knew that the working for silence he had placed had fallen, and all eyes were on them, mostly himself as he was the source of the searing energy. the cheerful chatter died suddenly without any dying sputters.

Gavri'el was a tiny compressed ball of grace hiding within his previous avatar, so much different now that it no longer was sustained by _seiðr _the workings he had imbued into it warped by the archangel's grace.

Voice containing only a hint of the fear any other being not an angel would have felt Gavri'el spoke again, a distant sound that slowly wormed its way into Loptr's mind.

"I joined the pagans from my Father's Earth. They know me as Loki, the Trickster, and brother of Odin_._"

* * *

**Yay chp 4. **

**Sorry for the kind of cliff hanger, not that I regret it, and really I have no need to justify anything **

**I think it was a good place as any to end this chapter. I had this on my USB for about a week, unedited due to the school wrapping up, and graduating from high school Saturday, and preparing for college orientation, which was today. Couldn't concentrate long enough to make any progress on stories due to nerves. e.e**

**Then after graduating I got hooked on and spent hours trying to get first place and always failing at third. Gave up after some random schmuck got me into a corner one to many times T.T **

**Then I found Hungry Shark Evolution and I just had to try and unlock Megladon. After being stuck trying to get Tiger Shark, gave up to check email for any updates on stories I was following. There were so I read those and ignored working on this, until I noticed a pm from the author of one of my favorite stories telling me that they _liked_ Praeternatural and were looking forward to reading more. O_O**

**The phone was put down and I got to work on this. **

**So far the story is moving out of Norse mythology and into supernatural. Loptr despite only wanting revenge on Odin for his betrayal and the norns for stringing everything along like puppet masters seems to have no choice in becoming the Over-Lord of Yggdrasil. The ****jötnar simply don't care about his opinion and all the forces of the dark have forced the elves, humans, aesir, and all others that opposed them to give tribute to help get Loptr's growing empire/kingdom get up and running while distracting him with feasting and drinking. Loptr just tries not to think about it. Gaveri'el is getting more of a personality and has joined the pagans and impulsively goes by the name Loki. Loptr isn't sure how to feel about that.**


	5. Chapter 5

Gavri'el admitted if only to himself, that he had been worried about taking Loptr as a vessel, especially when the _jötun _simply vacated his avatar as the archangel entered it. The archangel knew that he shouldn't have expected the dark being to remain like human souls did once consenting, after all Loptr was more than a mere human soul.

The power he felt just brushing against the dark being's essence rivaled the First Beasts, and Gavri'el was certain that it was only a hint of Loptr's true power. He dearly hoped he had not made a mistake. There was no sinister motive as far as he could sense, and the avatar was the most comfortable vessel that he could ever remember using.

The construct of _seiðr_ settled over the archangel smoothly, sliding like oil against his grace and settling tightly, like a second skin. At first it seemed to want to restrict him, constricting uncomfortable around his wings and pinching at his grace. Before the young archangel could panic the _seiðr,_ with a petulant whisper subsided.

Looking out with new eyes, Gavri'el could see the Dark One, no Loptr as he now called himself a vaguely falcon shaped mass of _seiðr_ and essence. A bright light of cascading colors, glowing in a different light than an angel would, but no less radiant or large.

Besides his hot and cold aura, the bright amber colored eyes were the only similarities to his previous form draped in darkness. As curious as he was, the archangel surmised it would be inappropriate to ask, and detrimental to his wellbeing.

Gavri'el did not pretend to understand the swift change in personas that Loptr went through, or the exact significance. Angels did not evolve that quickly if at all. Most begun as the celestial waves of intent that they all were when created by Father. It was in the recent millennia's that angels as a whole started to gain more defining features besides wings.

Despite never being said, it was a common belief that there was no need to evolve because they were Father's greatest creations. When you were already created perfect why change?

Obviously angels were neither the brightest or favored of their Father when humans were added to the equation. Gavri'el had mixed feelings about them.

While he loved his Father and would do anything for Him, the youngest archangel had difficulty putting a small fragment of His brilliance, a soul above Him no matter how beautiful they were, compared to Father, they were outshone.

He tried anyway and while not fond of the little beings, he Gavri'el did not hold the same distain for them that Hêlêl did. Any dislike towards the small beings paled in comparison to the Morning Star's burning fury.

Loptr's avatar despite the uncomfortableness at first, was the best vessel that Gavri'el could have gotten, and more than anything the youngest archangel could have hoped for. The _seiðr _concealed his grace better than any warding, and could not be unraveled by any being not on the same level or above Loptr.

The only ones that came to mind were his Father, and Death, and neither seemed to be inclined to grace Gavri'el with their presence, or feel the need to expose him, so the archangel seemed to be set.

It was odd being out of tune with the rest of the Host, and beyond the dark whispering from Loptr's _seiðr, _Gavri'el was alone for the first time in his life.

The archangel lingered for a few days around Yggdrasil before returning to earth when it was clear that the dark creatures that now ruled the world tree were weary of his presence, despite Loptr's paying him little mind. Being able to wander freely on Earth without restrictions or scrutiny from his siblings was gratifying.

Gavri'el hated being confined in one place, and while in heaven, his unsated wanderlust had always plagued him. No matter how much he missed home, the Messenger couldn't deny that being able to roam unimpeded brought out a side of him that few ever saw hints of.

Which was probably what led to him to his current situation, held by slender finger curled with deceptive casualness around his vessel's slim shoulders, Loptr's amber eyes boring into his, peering at the archangel hiding within the being's former avatar with an intensity that was to say uncomfortable. It became even more so as those orbs gained a distinct blue tinge that for some reason sounded alarm bells in the archangels mind.

The mild calm expression on his face did not match Loptr's distorting avatar, skin bubbling steaming, cracking, and outright burning or falling off in places. Looking past the dark being's avatar, Gavri'el couldn't even begin to describe the horror barely contained within. Sharp fanged maws and forked tongues, burning eyes and spiraling flames reflecting off blades of ice.

"_Móðir_, peace."

The change was immediate. As if a shutter had snapped shut, Loptr's grip which had been steadily tightening loosened. Black nailed fingers idly tapping the archangel's collar in an agitated movement, then fell limply to the flame haired being's side. Though those molten amber eyes continued to regard him, his essence had settled to a mildly churning chaotic mass Gavri'el concluded was as close to calm as Loptr ever got.

Sighing the youngest archangel restrained the urge to lean away from the dark being, well aware that such an act may set Loptr off. Golden honey eyes peering at the one who may have very well saved his life to see a tall broad-shouldered grey haired man with inhuman solid coal black eyes and ashen skin.

Thick well-muscled forearms were loosely crossed, a large head cocked to the side and thick brows raised expectantly. Surprisingly Loptr twitched, essence vaguely resembling a ruffled avian.

The dark being with the petulance of a guilty child shuffled his feet, amber slits focused vaguely in the archangel's direction. Gavri'el saw only regret in them, the furious anger from before submerged beneath a sea of other conflicting emotions. Turning away a dark look was sent at the frozen patrons.

"_Depart."_ It was a mere entire building was empty in less than a minute, leaving only Gavri'el, Loptr, and the grey haired newcomer in the once bustling tavern. The flame haired being shook himself, amber eyes with the fading blue hint glazed but steadily clearing.

"_I don't know why that upset me so much_."

Gavri'el's eyes darted to the grey haired man who had snorted at that statement, Loptr who was glowering at said man crossed his arms in an almost defensive gesture. Without any heat behind it, the look was rather pitiful expression that did little to cow him. The youngest archangel gave the faintest of incredulous looks.

"I impersonated you, and joined the pagans on Earth, taking your name without your consent." Gavri'el was rather upset and confused with himself for behaving as such, that type of behavior wasn't like him. Loptr hummed glancing at Gavri'el. Amber eyes narrowed as his head tilted from side to side

"_No, really it is I should apologize_," and didn't he look put out by that admission. _"…I renounced my claim to the name Loki and my avatar to you, it was my windfall to you for the service to me_."

Slender fingers pulled at a small goatee, once again amber eyes closed against the archangel's stare. "_It would be foolish to expect my seiðr to have no effects on your grace, and through it your state of mind. That avatar is infused with much of my seiðr. Separating from it has affected my own state of mind, that and other factors…"_

Gavri'el was obviously unsettled by the ominous statement, if the frown creasing the grey haired male's face was anything to go by, he was as well. The archangel didn't get the chance to question Loptr though, the dark being waving a hand as if to ward off any concern, walking past the archangel to get to the bar, grabbing one of the abandoned bottles left on to table.

"_It is not yet a problem for the moment, no need to concern yourselves just yet, if at all." _Giving a dubious glance at the red liquid with bright blue flames burning on the surface, the being shrugged, idly sipping it. _"Once again, I hope that you over look my misstep dove. I have no say in what you chose to do with my former vessel, I am no longer Loki of Asgard and till you relinquish that name and your vessel to me, I will never be again. For all intents and purposes, you are Loki as much as you are Gavri'el, do what you feel appropriate. The affairs of your Father's little marble have yet to concern me, until they do..."_

Shrugging Loptr gestured lazily with his unoccupied hand, and a wave of power swept over the archangel. It was dark and coiling, sickly sweet like nectar and bitter ale. It stung like embers and choked like smoke. It was to say very unpleasant, despite lasting for only an instant.

In that brief moment bathed in Loptr's power before finding himself in a field back on earth, and also startling a herd of deer, Gavi'el wondering not for the first time, what kind of being had the power to bind something like Loptr that was not his Father?

"_Well that was rude __Móðir."_

"_By the _Nine_ Sleipnir."_Shaking his head Loptr stared stubbornly at the wall. "_I fail to see the need to converse over my manner, or lack thereof."_

That dark knowing stare that he _knew _that Sleipnir was giving him was not one he was willing to meet at the moment, not when his emotions were still a mess. Or the possibilities of what his eldest son thought that he knew. Pathetic weak puny human body.

If not for the complications of constructing a respectable stable avatar without restricting or limiting his power, and the necessary workings to integrate himself into it, Loptr would not have bothered possess one.

He couldn't bring himself to regret it though humans were an easy convenient readymade avatar to occupy. If not for Gavri'el Loptr doubted he would have even thought of using one. Using a human as a vessel was a good way to contain your essence if you were one of the more powerful _jötnar_ with little effort and as a plus navigate without crushing everything around you.

The only down side is that they were so damn fragile, over a century since he took one and Loptr still had trouble with workings using his own power and had to rely on _seiðr _prepared beforehand for his workings, unless he wanted his body to start complaining from the strain.

Focusing his attention on his first born, Loptr sighed._ "What has led you here to seek my presence?"_ Sleipnir shifted on his feet in a manner reminiscent of his true form.

"_We worry for you Móðir." _Brows raised, Loptr stared unblinkingly, pointedly taking a sip as he reclined against the bar, the perfect picture of relaxed and at ease. Nostrils flared in irritation the coal eyes narrowed. _"…Hela wished for me to inform you that the elves and fey of __Alfheim and Ljosalfheim have made their report._"

"_Oh? Good news I hope?" _With false nonchalance that did little to hide his pleasure Loptr crossed the room in a few quick strides, drink immediately forgotten. Sleipnir was grinning, white impossibly square teeth revealed standing out against pink gums and pallid skin.

"_The __Bilröst is restored and fully operational __Móðir"_

* * *

**Gavri'el joins the pagans on earth, Loptr is torn, Sleipnir is introduced and brings good news.**

**This chapter was amazingly difficult to get out even though I had a fairly clear idea of what it would be about. ****For those that actually enjoy reading Praeternatural, there is a very low chance of me discontinuing it all together. ****I'm not going to even bother stick to the writing schedule that I had in mind, so updates may come every week, every other week, or once a month. Depends on when I muster the motivation to get around to it. ****F****eed back is nice but unexpected. Favs and Follows are pleasant and Views are great.**


	6. Chapter 6

[_AllSpeak_]

* * *

_[This is…somewhat embarrassing to watch.] _

Loptr had to agree with that statement from his only daughter, watching the great rainbow bridge collapse underneath the weight of the _jötnar_ tromping across it. Any sympathy he may have felt was quickly replaced with amusement at the somewhat humoring sight of the giants shamed and mauve colored faces.

Fenrir dancing around and howling with mirthful glee, still relishing his freedom and delighting in their shame did little to help matters. The irritated giants were cowed under Loptr's heavy gaze. If the wolf wanted to frolic in the manner of a puppy while delighting in their humiliation, Loptr would beat down any that would wish to prevent him from doing so.

A massive form loomed over the father daughter pair. The serpent Jormungandr mostly silent despite his gargantuan size, only the quiet rustling of scale against scale would have given him away to those who didn't see the Midgard Serpent first.

_[…Did this not occur in a past iteration __Faðir?] _

Taking only a moment to think about it, Loptr bobbed his head. Eyes pinched slightly.

_[Indeed, however the __Bifröst had shattered before the Final battle had begun… I had forgotten to strengthen it for the second pass.]_

Hissing wordlessly, the massive serpent glided past, mindful of some of the smaller beings more vulnerable to his size as he made his way towards the shimmering remains of the _Bilröst _to assist. Loptr gave Hel his full attention after a few minutes of watching, ignoring the small feeling of disappointment at the _jötnar _regrouping, most likely crossing to join others on Asgard, enjoying the spoils of war.

He didn't mean anything by it, Loptr had simply been deprived of amusement for far too long. The thought of sowing more misery and causing mischief made the _jötunn _claws itch and feathers tingle. When was the last time he had simply _lived? _The centuries spent gallivanting with Dionysus were all just a blur, if it had actually even happened.

_[My dear Hel] _Elegantly turning, inky strands floating in a wind that only effected shades and those of her realm, the Ruler of Helheim arched an inquisitive brow _[your people have secured the new additions to your kingdom yes?]_

Her smile was cool and somewhat condescending. Another person and another time, Loptr may have taken offense, perhaps even mutilated the offender's visage. However, Hel or Hela was his daughter, his only daughter. He knew his children well enough to know they held enough respect for him, despite their relatively distant relationship in almost every iteration, to not slight him in such a manner. It was all in good fun.

_[Of course. I have many more subjects with the..most unfortunate passing of many of the __Æsir. The lack of housing was a problem that had to be recertified. For the good of the residents of Helheim and all lost shades of course. It is my duty to ensure they are well cared for.] _The reminder of the position that had been force upon Hel as a child in the earlier iterations was a sour reminder of the many slights Odin had made against not just Loptr, but his family.

Even if she grew into her position well, and enjoyed it now, it did not excuse forcing a child to rule a kingdom after killing her mother and separating her from her siblings.

Humming noncommittedly Loptr let his gaze wander over the smoldering fields of _Vígríðr_ idly noting the crimson dragon Niddhog competing with the demons over the corpses that were strewn across the battle field. God and giants alike were torn and devoured by the beasts.

A small sound of distaste was the only acknowledgement he gave to their activities. Too many cycles as a bodiless wraith had come and gone for Loptr to hold much importance to an empty corpse. The shades were in their respective resting places and would be for eternity now that the cycle had ended.

Speaking of smoldering fields…

_[What has become of Sutr my dearest Hel?]_

_[Once his battle with Beli's bane ended, the flames of his sword consumed him, and his fiery spirit wreaked havoc amongst opposing forces. He has since left. Many shades in Midgard bring tales of a frightful fire that burned a once great city. Once within its walls, their enemies conquered and plundered it.]_

By the time she finished her brief narrative, his feathery ridges where visibly raised.

_[..That you are aware, Surtr has no plans of burning the world and causing it to sink into the cosmic ocean once again?]_

Eyes dark and smiling with wry amusement, she shook her head. _[No __Faðir. He seems content at the moment burning his way through dimensions, confusing mortals with the existence of a massive semi corporeal being of fire and ashes wielding a sword brighter than the sun. If you took the time to expand your awareness you would be able to perceive that.]_

Fortunately she turned her attention away from Loptr, missing the large avian shaped _jötunn _in that moment becoming quite still, and was more focused on the large hound hobbling over on three legs. The hound didn't show any pain despite the awkward bloody stump were there should have been a left paw, a large grin displaying blooded fangs and a ragged tongue once a severed head was dropped at his Mistress's feet.

_[If you will excuse me__ Faðir,__ I wish to find a place for the gift that Gram has kindly given me.] _Elegantly picking up Mím's head, she gave an absent nod in farewell before departing. Gram gave a curious look towards Loptr's still form before eagerly following after Hel, both vanishing in a swirl of mist.

Despite his size and presence, none that remained in the fields ofVígríðr on the island Óskópnir noticed Loptr's distant gaze, or the brief blue that overtook his usually amber colored eyes.

**|X|**

The _Bilröst _was odd. As in it bore no resemblance to what Jormungandr had expected it to look like. Whether or not it would meet his expectations was however yet to be seen. The former incarnation of the flaming bridge was unable to support the weight of armies, perhaps this newer incarnation would.

A loud chuff from his right interrupted the serpent's studying of the presented _Bilröst. _The source strode forward, a sneer on a scarred angular face revealing sharp inhuman fangs and blackened gums. Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion darted between two stiffly standing elves.

_[This bears no resemblance to the bridge you claimed to have finished.] _His voice a graveling sound that most would find enticing in a different situation made the two fair elves cringe. _[What use is this ornamental archway? [Do you expect us to find some grand doorway to nowhere of use?] _

_[Fenrir. Control yourself.] _He hissed in annoyance, meeting his sibling's baleful glare with his own venomous stare. Absently he noted how strange it was that there was not a representative for the fey. The small creatures did work with the elves to construct the bridge. _[Cease and desist. You are behaving as poorly as an ill-trained puppy. For shame, how would Faðir feel?]_

_[Disappointment in my failure of raising you in a more proper manner.]_ The muscles in Jormungandr's jaw tightened reflexively, venom pooling in his mouth. With some effort, the Sea-Thread swallowed, inhaling the fumes he barely stopped himself from releasing in the brief moment his control slipped. The two elves that had yet to speak startled. Giving them a curious glance Jormungandr brushed their behavior off.

_[Faðir. I was not aware you were there.] _It was somewhat comical, seeing the large stocky Fenrisúlfr cringe, ears pinned to the side of his head and wide eyes staring vaguely but not quite in Loptr's direction.

No matter how many times Jormungandr saw him, Loptr's appearance still surprised him. Using only his vessel's eyes, Loptr appeared tall lean, and lightly tanned while still being on the pale side. Off-white blue gold, was the best way to describe his skin tone.

His hair was the flaming red that some of his feathers were, and the _jötunn _still had a sharp lean featured face. The only thing that would reveal his inhuman nature without a shadow of a doubt would be his eyes.

They did not fit the proportions for a human face. Overly large and obviously slanted, the almond shape primarily amber orbs saw more than any human could begin to comprehend, and reflecting his inhuman nature, impossible to completely hide. Those eyes were filled with such disappointment Jormungander felt like a small hatchling once again. The ethereal avian form he could see within those eyes and overlapping his avatar even more so.

Squinting, the Flame-Haired god titled his head in a rather birdlike manner, walking closer to inspect the large arch, Sleipner not to far behind him, dark eyes seemingly focused on the arch as well after a glance at the two elves. Jormungandr noted his elder sibling's brow furrow at the sight of them before, striding over to Fenrir's side with a soft dismissive snort.

_[…It is not quite what I was expecting when I was told you had repaired the __Bilröst]_ Curiosity evident, Loptr stopped studying the reconstructed _Bilröst_, placing a hand on the green veined white skull with gold for teeth and smooth blue stones for eyes. _[Interesting, I could think of no better use for Heimdall than to contributing to reconstructing the bridge.] _

The moment the_ jötunn_ in ás guise nudged at the _seiðr _within the skull, he stilled. At first Jormungandr didn't notice anything wrong, assuming that the Flame-Haired was just surveying the network that connected the nine realms.

Fenrir and Sleipnir felt a slight hint of unease quieted, and the two elves not only stiffened but grew pale, being close enough and at an angle to see Loptr's expression due to standing only a few paces away from the section of the arch the dark veined skull seemingly grew out of.

_[…That is..ah, there is quite a bit of emptiness beyond Yggdrasil..] _ His tone was slightly off, but Loptr's avatar began performing basic subtle functions of a living being again. _[I had forgotten..]_

_[So it works __Faðir?] _Shaking off any lingering apprehension and breaking the tension Fenrir leaned forward. The fact that wolf kept both feet planted were they were and the sharpness of his amber tinged hazel gaze the only sign of any wariness.

A slow nod without turning was Loptr's response. Fenrir was immediately animated, chattering in his exited puppy like manner at how relieved Hati and Sköll would be to hear pulling chariots to various realms would no longer be necessary to an empathetic Sleipnir. The later snorted at something Fenrir said, and a fierce scowl crossed the younger's face at the action and Sleipnir's retort.

_[So it seems, however…] _

Jormungandr caught the elves subtly trading a nervous glance. The two had long since edged a few paces aside to give Loptr his space while studying the large ark made from Uru, consequently facing the ethereal head of Jormungander's form coiled within his avatar, and catching his attention with their frequent fidgeting. Understandable given their close proximity to Loptr, but still distracting.

_[There is something off..?] _

If the serpent had been tuned into his avatar's senses, primarily it's eyes instead of skimming them second hand, he would have missed the lightning quick exchange. Suspicion budding, Jormungandr turned his focus completely on the two elves as they seemed to decide something, for the moment ignoring his vessel's duller senses.

_[The path to Midgard is stable-] _

Occupied as he was, Loptr noticed nothing, quietly murmuring to himself, to low for Jormungandr to hear, not that he was paying mind. At that moment the two doors to the circular chamber were forced open, admitting an armed group of frantic individuals comprised of elves, and fey. A furious and frenzied looking Hel swept into the room, with two shades.

_[As well as the paths connecting it to the other realms,]_

Eyes wide in shock, it took Jormungandr a moment to comprehend what he was seeing, but to his credit, the Sea-Thread immediately acted once he did. Springing forward, halfway out his avatar even as he was moving, the serpent cried out a warning.

_[However…**this **path…]_

Sleipnir and Fenrir caught on a couple moments later, both echoing Jormungandr's surprise the moment they saw what it was that shocked Jormungandr into momentary stillness. All three acted too late. The small band of warriors accompanying Hel never had a chance. Loptr was still focused on the workings designed specifically for a single purpose, unaware until it was far to late to prevent it that whatever it was, it was meant for him.

.

.

.

The sound of thunder was deafening.

_[…Seem to lead beyond the Void surrounding Yggdrasil.]_

The silence afterwards, even more so.

* * *

**Lucidsilver~**

**Was going to post this chapter a few days from now, or after finished editing previous chapters and posting those on AO3, but being in a generally good mood from getting various gifts and much thought, decided to just post it now instead of drawing it out, and will update on AO3 soon. Tomorrow. Probably.**

**On that note. Thoughts? ideas? Would love to hear about what people think.**


End file.
